Chapter 15: First Broadcast
“Yamamoto?” Kiyoto Suzuki was stunned for a moment. Screening Department? Why would they call?
“It’s like this, Section Chief Suzuki. Section Chief Takeshita just personally called over, and he gave a very high evaluation of your An Shizhi.”
Yamamoto’s tone had no fluctuations at all: “We checked the recent schedule, and there’s just an opening in the late-night slot at 12:20 a.m. next Monday. So we wanted to ask, if we start broadcasting from next Monday at 12:20 a.m. every day, can you keep up with the production progress?”
“Next Monday? Every day?” Kiyoto Suzuki’s brain buzzed.
“Yes, our broadcasting habit here is to air continuously for seven days a week. If possible, we hope you can prepare the first week’s tapes, that is, seven episodes, and hand them over to us by this Friday.”
Yamamoto said: “This is a very good opportunity, Section Chief Suzuki. The competition in the late-night slot isn’t as fierce as prime time, but continuous broadcasting can accumulate audience and reputation the fastest!”
After hanging up the phone, the ecstasy on Kiyoto Suzuki’s face was quickly replaced by a stern expression.
He looked at his subordinates who had just been cheering, and said in a deep voice: “Everyone, we have a new task.”
After he stated the Screening Department’s requirements, the previously extremely heated atmosphere in the office instantly cooled down.
Produce six new animation episodes within a week?
What a joke!
They produced the first Fu Nü episode, and although it was completed today, it was entirely because of Hiroshi Nohara’s drawing board.
They could almost say they just copied it directly.
And Hiroshi Nohara’s drawing board only covered the first three episodes. For the remaining four, even if drawn on the spot, could they really be drawn?
“This… this is impossible, right?” Hoshi Minamimura’s face turned pale: “Our budget and manpower simply…” As he spoke, he also looked toward Hiroshi Nohara.
“Yeah, Section Chief, this is too rushed.”
Everyone’s faces showed difficulty. This was no longer a challenge; it was simply a pipe dream.
Kiyoto Suzuki’s brows furrowed tightly. He knew how daunting this task was. But the opportunity was right in front of them, and once missed, it would be gone forever.
Just as everyone felt despair, a calm voice rang out.
“Can be done.”
（It’s possible.）
Everyone turned their heads in unison toward the source of the voice.
Hiroshi Nohara.
He was still standing there, expression calm, but his eyes revealed an unquestionable determination.
“Nohara-kun?” Kiyoto Suzuki looked at him.
“We’ve discussed many backup stories before, and the script outlines are basically all there.” Hiroshi Nohara walked to the whiteboard, picked up a pen, and quickly wrote down several titles, saying as he wrote: “《Miserable Worship》, 《Family Precept》, 《Hair》, 《Different Level》, 《Net Shed》, 《Contradiction》…… And I have complete ideas for them.”
He turned around, his gaze sweeping over everyone: “As long as we divide the work clearly and concentrate all our energy, it can be done. The stylized art style gives us the possibility to compress production time.”
His words were like a heart stimulant, injected into everyone’s hearts.
Looking at those eerie names on the whiteboard and Hiroshi Nohara’s confident demeanor, the crowd’s previously panicked hearts miraculously settled down.
After all, Hiroshi Nohara was a manga artist who had gained some fame recently.
The An Shizhi they produced had even passed the review by the notoriously strict Production Bureau Audit Department at Tokyo Television Station headquarters.
It was enough to prove Hiroshi Nohara’s ability and talent!
Now that Hiroshi Nohara had said so…
How could they possibly back down!?
“Good! Let’s do it!”
Kiyoto Suzuki looked at the young person in front of him, his eyes filled with appreciation and gratification. He slammed the table hard and issued the battle orders: “Hashishita, go to the Screening Department right now to coordinate and confirm all details! Minamura, Hase, Kitagawa, all of you, from now on, follow Nohara-kun’s command! This week, we’re camping here! I’ll handle food and lodging! Everyone, get your spirits up! Before the end of work on Friday! Produce all the video tapes! And hand them over!”
“Yes!”
A unanimous roar announced the start of an extreme challenge.
The next seven days, Suzuki’s Classroom turned into a high-speed war machine.
The floor was piled with empty boxes from takeout bento boxes and instant noodle packaging bags, and the air was filled with the strange smell of coffee, paint, and sweat mixed together.
Hiroshi Nohara became the absolute core of this small team.
His workstation was covered with storyboard sketches, each one using the simplest lines to outline the most precise horror atmosphere.
“Minamura-kun, here, add more eerie atmosphere to the hospital in 《Miserable Worship》, make it feel like the head is being knocked into the ground.”
“Kitagawa-san, in the 《Hair》 episode, don’t use pure black for the hair color; layer several shades of gray for depth, so it has a sense of flow in static images.”
“Hase-kun, for the staircase in 《Different Level》, distort the perspective even more to make it uncomfortable at first glance.”
He rarely spoke loudly, but every instruction was clear and precise, straight to the core. His brain was like a precision computer, perfectly breaking down and combining the production processes for the six stories and assigning them to everyone.
And he himself took on the most grueling work—drawing the key frame original art for all scenes.
While others collapsed exhausted onto camp beds, the desk lamp at his workstation always stayed on the latest.
As long as someone looked over, they could see Hiroshi Nohara’s hand always drawing.
Without the slightest hesitation.
Time flew by in this extreme busyness.
Friday afternoon, when Ichiro Hashishita handed over the seven brand-new video tapes neatly to Mr. Yamamoto at the Screening Department, he felt his legs going weak.
And in Suzuki’s Classroom, everyone was drained of strength, sprawled haphazardly on chairs and the sofa, falling into a deep sleep.
……
Sunday, late night.
Less than half an hour until Monday.
Suzuki’s Classroom was pitch black, with only an old television glowing faintly, illuminating the few tired yet extremely excited faces gathered in front.
Cold pizza and a few cans of beer sat on the table, but no one touched them.
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the time ticking in the bottom right corner of the screen.
00:18:45
“It’s… it’s coming.” Ichiro Hashishita’s voice trembled as he rubbed his hands nervously.
“I wonder… if anyone will watch.” Yō Kitagawa said softly, clutching the cushion beside her.
Kiyoto Suzuki didn’t speak; he just stared intently at the screen, his weathered face etched with the tension and anticipation of parents waiting for a child’s birth.
Hiroshi Nohara sat in the corner, leaning against the sofa back, hands crossed in front of him, gazing calmly at the television. Only his bright eyes in the darkness betrayed his inner unrest.
Time passed second by second.
00:19:58……
00:19:59……
00:20:00!
The previous program’s ad ended, and the screen suddenly went black.
In the office, everyone instinctively held their breath.
In the darkness, a crisp wooden knock sounded.
It was the drumbeat.
Followed by that hoarse and eerie voice, as if from the Showa era.
“Passersby, don’t miss it, An Shizhi time is here…”
The screen lit up, and the Kamishibai Uncle in the yellow mask appeared.
Their story officially began in the quiet late night of this vast metropolis.
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